house of bonsai: birthday

August 5, 2007

birthday

It's my mother's 77th birthday today. Perhaps because she was always fond of grand gestures (as opposed to the day-to-day upkeep of relationships) birthday celebrations and parties seemed to have a bigger weight with her and my immediate family than with most other people. At least, most other adult people.

As I referenced in another post about birthdays (this time, my birthday), her celebration of my birthday always contained a liberal helping of her recounting the process of labor and birth (my birth took all of two hours, so fortunately there wasn't much to say). It became another chapter in the Story of Liz. If this had been an occasional part of my birthday, that would have been one thing, but every year, it was an unavoidable part of the Birthday Spiel...recounted on the phone if I wasn't with her.

All this programming about the importance of birthdays leaves me particularly unsettled today. Otherwise, of late, I am able to keep the focus on myself, and on how (through the "no contact" rule) I am so much better off now that I am out of her sphere of immediate influence. But today, my knee-jerk reaction is "That poor woman is 77 today and she is all alone". Today, I seem to be editing out the WHY and the HOW of the situation and just focusing on her aloneness and the profound sadness of her life. I overlook the responsibility for how she got where she is today --- hers --- and just look at where she is.

Thank goodness that I've gotten to the point where I don't generally hold this point of view. The focus on her (while editing out any information about how her own selfishness and shortsightedness have brought her to her current reality) is exactly what she's always expected of me, and always (until recently) received. This birthday thing is one of the most deeply-ingrained parts of my upbringing. In general, I've been feeling fine about how things have been going (thanks to the GCM and to the simple passage of time since I established my "no contact" status). But it's possible that the birthday thing won't improve for me until she actually passes away.

3 comments:

elizabeth said...: I'm sorry Elise that you are feeling troubled. It sucks.

I have issues with birthdays too. My mother would always like to remind me of how she could have aborted me.; 12:03 AM
Anna said...: Just found your blog and am reading through the archives between breaks at work! I love your voice and you are a compelling writer.

I wanted to comment on this one because my NMIL's birthday and Christmas are always sad occasions for my husband as well. Christmas, especially, because she loved it so much and always made it really special for her children. But now she is old and lonely, having driven away all friends and family, and he always feels extra guilty and sad on special occasions, thinking of her all alone in her apartment. It isn't enough for him to reach out (he's been NC for about 3 years now), but he does get somber when he thinks about her.; 2:44 PM
bonsai said...: Hi Anna! Welcome, and thank you for the kind words!

My mother's 82nd birthday was just last week. It has gotten marginally easier with time.

Thanks for poking around and reading my account of a very difficult yet gratifying time in my life.; 7:24 PM

how to navigate this blog

Welcome!

First, please read the "first post, August 2006", further down in this column. It sets the context for everything that follows.

Then, please click on the labels section and go chronologically. Sometimes I'll write about a memory about something which happened a long time ago, so going by the dates the posts were written isn't the best way to read the blog. Occasionally, a given post that is relevant over time will have several labels applied to it (1970s, 1980s, 1990s). But overall: stick with the labels and it will be a lot clearer!

Thank you for being here, and for reading.

Note: some names have been changed to preserve privacy.

first post, August 2006

Recently, it's come to my attention that I have a challenge to meet, a life-altering decision to make: can I continue to have contact with my mother and still hold onto my integrity, my sanity, my serenity?

My mother (who at her best was at one time glamorous, brilliant, interesting, eclectic, and self-absorbed) has morphed over the past years and decades into an unrepentant, myopic, full-blown narcissist. She turns all conversations back to the topic of herself, thinks nothing of the true welfare of others (although she sometimes pretends to do so for short periods when it serves her), and can never take even partial responsibility for any of her actions or inactions. "I am sorry" is a phrase which never falls from her lips...never.

Everyone has bad times and bad luck, but in her eyes, her bad times and bad luck are always worse than anyone else's. She's been "going through a hard time" from the years of my earliest memories, at age 3 or 4, more or less non-stop up through today. Her reaction to others putting up healthy boundaries (in my case, very late in life) is to fly into one of her legendary rages. She also cannot take responsibility for the fact that her actions (and inactions) have been prime contributors to the very negative, sad, isolated place her life has now become.

Her friends, subjected increasingly to her incessant self-focus and self-pity, have been abandoning her in droves, finally tiring of the asymmetric nurturing she requires of all those around her. This trend has put even more pressure on me, in recent years, to be there for her, as one of her last remaining contacts. And now even I am throwing in the towel, going against every ounce of socialization I've received (as her only daughter) from her and from society at large.

Because one of the primary methods of a narcissist is be at the center of attention (whether positive or negative, sometimes it doesn't even matter to them) and to have others see life through their distorted point of view, it seems that children of narcissistic parents can really bear the brunt of this disorder.

It seems that it is only now --- after 40 years of life on this earth, a decade or more of escalating attempts to help her with her never-ending, chronic-by-design problems and issues, several recent severe crises due to my overextending my and my partner's energies to try to help even more --- that I am able to even look at the history, the issues, and for a sane path out of this dark thicket of her pathology. I attribute this growth to increasing self-esteem and resiliency, due in no small part to a wonderful partner and friends, as well as some therapy.

Merely telling my friends "she makes all conversations into brochures about herself" or "she can't apologize" doesn't even begin to illustrate the true depth of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. If I sit down to chat and tell these ridiculous stories over again with various friends, particularly in enough detail to give even a fraction of the full picture, it will take up too much of our potentially much more pleasant time together.

At the same time, I do want those who are close to me to understand what it is that I've experienced, on whatever level they're interested or have time for --- from skimming a post or two to reading more extensively. Much of it will come as a surprise, precisely because of the fact that the sheer oddness and inappropriateness of her behaviour leads me not to bring it up in polite company. It's all too weird, too complicated, and too unsavory to discuss within the context of an average dinner with friends...

Perhaps most importantly, these memories have been living in my head for years, and I've been holding onto them almost like a set of worry beads, a template to keep in mind in case other narcissistic people try to enter my life, so I can run in the other direction. Since, in her absence, I'm finally beginning to trust my judgment a bit more, I think I can safely begin to let these memories go, to let them fade a bit --- to the best extent possible. Writing them out, I'm hoping, will go a good way toward accomplishing that "letting go".

Whether you're an old friend, a treasured colleague, or someone whom I've met and bonded with through the online ACON community, I welcome your comments and cherish your ongoing support and friendship.

house of bonsai

August 5, 2007

birthday

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